


To Be A Queen

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Elizabeth (Movies)
Genre: Control, Control Issues, Loneliness, Other, Scene: dance lesson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: A ruler is always lonely; a Queen ruling in a man's world is lonelier still.Two consecutive scenes from the movie, with an insight into Elizabeth's thoughts.





	To Be A Queen

She sits alone in a room lit by candles and the flickering light of the fire in the hearth. Even all of that is not quite enough to take the chill off yet. It is one of those rare evenings when she is alone. There is always at least one other person with her, solitude is impossible to find... except tonight, and she is alone with her thoughts. Even Bess is elsewhere. It had seemed... unnecessary to demand her presence tonight. Elizabeth understands well what it means to mourn family, and although nothing has been said between them, she knows that those who lost their lives today were Bess' family. The least she can do is afford her favourite a little time and space to grieve. 

The price for peace is high. 

It is on nights like this that her thoughts stray to Dudley. She hated herself for that, once, but now... she can feel some compassion for her younger self. At the end of the day, he is gone. He made his choices. For all that he claimed they were for her... he had been selfish. She cannot afford to be. She has made her choices and they have kept England safe. 

Unbidden, the image of Dudley in her mind's eye shifts to that of Walter Raleigh. He is charming indeed, a pirate, an honest man with kind eyes, and good legs. There are few who are as bold as he is. Most are too conditioned by her father and her sister before her to risk incurring a monarch's wrath for all that she has striven to be fair in her dealings with people. Fair and just and merciful... but not weak. She cannot afford to be weak. She wishes him well, truly, wishes him happiness, but there is a small and jealous part of her which seethes that it should be with her. Kings have mistresses all the time, why should a Queen not enjoy the same privilege? 

In her heart, she knows. A man may father children as he wishes and even the bastard child of a king may be afforded some status. A man can provide for his lovers. A Queen may father a bastard child, and the consequences would be earth-shattering. Besides, as Walsingham says, virginity is an asset which holds its value, and the survival of her vulnerable kingdom depends on her ability to keep secrets, and to play the vanities of men off against each other. By this time she is a past master, and feels some pity for those sent to court her. The Austrian duke had been sweet, and too young for such machinations and games... but then, in this world ruled by blood and religion, no one is truly too young. She had learned that lesson well. 

As if in a trance, she crosses the room, standing opposite her looking glass. It is no cheap thing, but finely made and fit for the Queen she is now. It is rarely that she confronts herself, but here alone and unguarded perhaps it is time to consider things with an honest eye. 

It is a long time since she last undid her own shift, but the hands on the tie have not been those of a lover for what seems like an age, and a want aches deep in her bones which she fights to ignore. Beneath all of this, beneath the paint and the wigs and the silks and satins, she is a woman, but before being a woman she is a Queen. For Queens, the rules are different. Even for women, they cannot simply have what they want, but at least some of them may find love, or what passes for it. This is a lonely life. 

Raleigh had been bold with her. It was a long time since any man had truly dared, and as she stares at her reflection their exchange runs through her head. 

_ "I like you, Mister Raleigh."_

_"And I like you."_

_"You know, of course, that when I like a man, I reward him."_

_"I had heard that."_

_"And what have you to say about it?"_

_"Reward my mission, majesty, not me."_

_"...And is the mission not the man?"_

_"Then you leave me free to like you in return."_

_"Go on."_

_"I think it must be hard for so great a Queen to know the simple pleasure of being liked for herself." _

She tugs the soft linen from her shoulders and lets it drop, regarding her naked form. She looks vulnerable like this, with no wig to hide her shorn hair, no paint to hide the lines which grow deeper by the day. Her collarbones and shoulders are too prominent. She has lost weight. She is aging, and a part of her wonders whether she has left it too late entirely. Not that she intends to take a husband at all, but what man, particularly a man such as Raleigh who could have any woman, what pleasure could he find in this? If she were to bed him, it would be out of obligation, and it would belie the promise he had given that he liked her for herself. Here, naked and alone, painted with nothing more than candlelight, she is confronted by the price she has paid to be Queen. 

She traces her lips, resting the hand with the royal signet ring at the base of her throat, arm curved over the bare swell of her breast, eyes fixed on her own in the mirror as the words she had later said to Bess echo in her mind. 

_ "Is it true? That I have never known the pleasure of being liked for myself."_

_"I hope you believe I like you for yourself, my lady"_

_"Is anyone ever liked simply for themselves? I doubt it. Are you? Men like you because you're pretty, and because you have the ear of the Queen."_

_"No doubt."_

_"Him, too. He likes you because he wants my favour. You do realise that."_

_"Yes, my lady."_

_"And the other thing too, of course, but then all men want that. Male desire confers no distinction. Oh, I envy you Bess. You are free to have what I cannot have. You're my adventurer." _

It had been a rare moment of honesty, and still she wonders whether she should regret it. There is a closeness between them which discomfits some of her other ladies in waiting. She knows that, and yet cannot bring herself to care. Bess is pretty, that much is true. It would be understandable for any man to desire her. Perhaps even some women, although most certainly as Queen she is not supposed to be aware of such things. There are some things women share between them which men do not understand, and would not believe possible. There is a part of her that sees in Bess the girl she might have been had she been born under another star, and there is a part of her which sees Bess as herself and loves her all the more for it. Bess is hers, her ward, under her protection... and yet there is still a part of Elizabeth which fears to lose her. 

A candle gutters and spits in a draft, and then goes out, and Elizabeth drops her eyes, turning to leave the room and retire to bed with a sigh. Ruminating on these thoughts any longer will help neither her cause, nor England's.

***

It is while she is observing a dancing lesson the next day that Raleigh next appears. 

"Let him throw you around! Be bold! Come on, you can trust him!"

It is Bess' turn, and the instructor is explaining,

"And jump! When I bend like this, you take a leap into the air."

Elizabeth rises from her throne, a triumphant smile on her face as she approaches the daring explorer, looking on with an expression on his face she can hardly read, and takes his arm in a gesture of favour some might kill for.

"The Volta! I require all my ladies to learn it. You see how fearless Bess is?"

"You like your ladies to jump at your command."

There is a tone to those words she does not like, one which takes her by surprise. Raleigh may be bold, but there are few indeed who are bold enough to speak to her with such distaste evident in their tone, particularly these days. 

She tilts her head a little, a carefully even almost-smile on her lips, and a challenge in her eyes. Perhaps she has allowed him to become overly-familiar. 

"...Do you think that wrong?"

"No. You are the Queen. You are to be obeyed."

He sounds resigned about that now, where previously he had been careful to show nothing but support and joy at her reign. There is a pang that he is now showing his true colours. It feels like another betrayal, albeit a small one, but if he wishes to play that game then she will show him what it truly means to be Queen. She decides to give him one last chance, a show of sincerity which she knows she may well regret. She wishes to trust him. She wishes him to prove himself worthy. After all, it was his words which reminded her quite how lonely she had become. Perhaps a show of contrition, of submission might be enough to bring him back to her side.

"To tell you the truth, I am very very tired of always being in control."

"Nonsense."

There is a fire in his eyes when he looks at her now, and she feels the shutters come clattering down. What can it be that makes this man now look at her with such contempt?

"You eat and drink control."

Ah, so it is that. She wonders what it is that has made him feel like a pawn, but only fleetingly. She has no time for the egos of men. England has no time for the egos of men. 

"Is that so?"

She turns away from him to the room. If he wishes to reject her and all that she has to offer, he can also accept the consequences of it.

She claps her hands to command attention, and the musicians obligingly fall silent, the rest of the room attentive on her command. 

"Bess. You should try a dance with Sir Walter. He's eager to show us his skill."

She urges the girl forward with a hand in the small of her back, then turns to sweep towards her throne as Bess bowed. 

"No skill at all, Majesty. I don't know the steps."

"Come now..." She crosses the room, taking him firmly by the arm and laughing a laugh which no others share, one entirely devoid of amusement as she guides him into position. "You stand, like this," She puts him into place, like posing a doll. "With your hands, here," She takes each of them in turn and places it on Bess' body, ignoring the stiffness in his form. Perhaps he has embroiled himself over his head, but if he wishes to joust with princes, then there are prices which must be paid. "And when she jumps on the fifth step, you lift her," she shifts his hand again, and glances at Bess, finally moving away with a parting, "What could be simpler."

She shifts back to observe them both for a moment, trying to pretend she is inured to the discomfort on their faces. Perhaps it is a self-fulfilling prophecy that she is destined never to be liked for herself. Then again, in a position such as hers, it becomes necessary to test the loyalty of her subjects, even those closest to her. It is impossible to truly trust anyone at all.

"Take your position, Sir Walter. I am to be obeyed."

There is the barest hesitation before he seems to accept his situation, and unfastens his swordbelt, handing it over to the dance teacher now retired to the side of the room. 

"As your Majesty wishes."

On a whim, then, she steps in, holding Bess by the shoulders and pressing a kiss behind her ear, eyes never leaving Raleigh's own. 

"Hold her firmly. I don't want her dropped."

Bess is hers. A treasure she guards jealously, and one which she knows in her heart she can never truly keep, one which she risks driving away by these fits of pique, and yet one whose word and loyalty she must test. A treasure which she knows Raleigh desires, something he fails to conceal. The man is a pirate, but he would make a poor politician, and a poor card player. His emotions are on his face, his heart on his sleeve, and it is a weakness she wants to school out of him, one which he would have to move past if he were ever to become her consort. 

She knows he never will, but such dreams rarely die easy and there have been so few candidates worthy of them. 

She lingers longer in surrendering Bess to him than she wished to, then returns to her throne and sits, gesturing for the musicians to resume.

"Play."

She can see Bess' lips moving, undoubtedly giving him instruction out of her kind heart to prevent the humiliation Elizabeth has engineered to remind him of his place. 

Walsingham appears to her right, and she simply raises a hand. 

"Leave us. I want both of them left alone."

Walsingham says nothing, but after a moment he inclines his head and retreats. He is her trusted advisor. The only one, really, the one whom she trusts to be honest with her in all things, the one whom she trusts to have her best interests and those of England at heart, and the one whom she trusts with her life. He understands this moment, and everything she will not say, as she looks on and dreams of the princess she had once been dancing with Dudley, who transforms into Raleigh before her eyes, yet another symptom of a dream she cannot have. 

It is a steep price she has paid to be Queen, abandoning all hope of love or affection, those things which so many insist a woman needs. A jealous flame burns in her heart as she watches her favourites dance together at her command, and yet, she will offer them what protection she can, as long as she is sure of their loyalty. After all, if she cannot be first in the heart of any man, the least she can demand is that she be foremost in the heart of those who serve her. For now, that must be, will have to be, enough.

**Author's Note:**

> It is not a historically accurate film, but taken with a pinch of salt it's not terrible. That being said, the nuance and depth of Cate's performance is truly astounding, as with everything she does, and there was one scene in particular which resonated with me and which I wanted to explore more deeply. That turned into this. I hope you enjoy it.


End file.
